Chapter Text
Pam gazed skyward, savoring the remnants of a December sunset… cotton candy pink, streaked through with warm hints of creamsicle. She'd never dared to try it during the peak of midday, nor in warmer seasons. She'd learned her lesson after literally blistering her tongue on a pot of boiling water as a child.
Movement caught the corner of her eye. She gasped, suddenly flustered, wide-eyed with astonishment. Why was he still here? He should have been gone… she checked her watch… six minutes ago. Her brow knit in consternation. She'd done everything right. She'd spent the requisite eleven minutes in the ladies’ room after punching out. That should have made her late enough to avoid running into Jim, but not so late that she wouldn't beat Roy to the truck. Roy didn't like to be kept waiting.
As always, the sight of Jim evoked an involuntary reaction. The flavors of pine, fresh mint, and lime jellybeans coated her tongue. Woodsy, warm with a hint of coolness, the perfect temperature. Cozy, like a log cabin in the middle of the forest. Never hot, never cold, always sweet. She was generally able to choose whether or not to invoke her powers, but she'd never been able to help herself where he was concerned.
He turned his head and caught her staring. With a friendly grin, he waved goodbye. Her hands clung to each other in an unconscious gesture. She cast her eyes downward, mouth watering. As her gaze fell, the small diamond on her left hand caught her eye. Not for the first time, the sight brought the salt tang of sweat and the sharpness of bile to the back of her throat. Her gorge rose involuntarily. Gasping, bending at the waist, she looked around feverishly for something to get the taste out of her mouth before it was too late. Anything, even a little snow would do, but all she saw was asphalt. She vomited, staggering on her feet. She closed her eyes to avoid looking at it, knowing she'd be unable to stop if she didn't. She'd gotten better at controlling her powers over the years, particularly in front of co-workers, but her defenses were low after the last words Roy had spoken at lunch.
Eyes closed, she reflected darkly while she wiped her mouth. His flavor had changed. He'd tasted like warm leather, coffee, and dark chocolate when they'd met back in high school. Now, like him, it had gone to seed. Stale, musty, bitter. Like a cheap hershey bar left to crumble in the back of a forgotten cabinet… like meat gone rancid, no longer prime. She hadn't known it was possible until it happened, but then she'd never met anyone with a power remotely similar to hers. Unlike people with more common abilities, she couldn't exactly compare experiences.
Gasping now, she tried to avoid thinking any further along those lines. He was due outside any second, and she needed to get ahold of herself.
Whoa. Jim jogged across the parking lot, lifting a hand without thinking. At the last moment, he pulled back instinctively, shoving both into his pockets. "You okay, Beesly?"
His voice and expression evidenced concern. She opened her eyes. Pine. She looked up into his eyes. Mint. Instantly, the turmoil in her stomach vanished, as though it had never existed. Lime. Feeling better now, she nodded and looked away. She opened the truck door and stepped up into the driver's seat, avoiding further eye contact.
"You know you can tell me anything, right?" he said sincerely. She was pale, her eyes enormous. She looked unsettled, fearful. Not for the first time, he longed to sweep her into his arms, to put the light back into her eyes.
She nodded again as she closed the door, glancing apprehensively toward the warehouse door. Thank you, she thought at him out of habit. Realizing he couldn't hear her, she mouthed the words with a nervous wiggle of her fingers, hoping he'd take the hint and leave.
Shoulders slumped with regret, Jim backed away when she started the engine. He crossed the parking lot, lost in thought. He and Pam hadn't interacted outside of work for months, and it hadn't been a slow drift. It was as though she'd constructed a concrete wall between them overnight. They'd become fast friends when he'd started at Dunder Mifflin, but something had changed. He hadn't seen it coming, and still didn't know the reason. She'd even stopped bringing in jellybeans, removing his flimsy pretext for spending time at reception.
After starting the engine, he frowned at his hands. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Pam contemplated reams of bond paper as she slid across the bench seat, to the passenger side. She turned up the radio, rested her head against the icy window, and silently sang along with the lyrics. During the commercials, she wondered what to make for dinner. She should call Penny, it had been awhile since they'd caught up.
The driver's side door opened and closed. Although Roy never opened his mouth, his thoughts broke through the noise she was deliberately generating. SO fuckin' horny, Pammy.
She gazed wistfully out the window as the office disappeared around a corner. Please, not tonight.
Yes, tonight. OR ELSE. The command thundered through her mind. She clasped her hands instinctively over her ears, as though the gesture could keep him out or turn down the volume. Of course, it was futile.
Please, I have a headache, she begged him silently. How about tomorrow?
Fuck that. How about right now? His laughter echoed rudely inside her head as he unbuckled his belt and grabbed her wrist.
She looked around anxiously. No! No, please. Someone will see.
Do it. NOW.
Burning with shame, she did it. She stared blankly out the window, trying not to look at him, trying not to think. If she did, she'd surely vomit inside his truck—not theirs, as he liked to remind her—and things would go from bad to worse. He stopped her before he finished. Tears leaking silently down her cheeks, she wiped her hand on her skirt, knowing the worst was yet to come.
Once they were home, he shoved her back against the front door. She cringed when her head bounced off the wood. The headache she'd lied about was now a reality. He tugged his pants down and pulled up her skirt.
Please. Don't, she begged him silently. She tried to distract him. Aren't you hungry? I was thinking about breakfast for dinner. It rarely worked, but it was worth trying for the few times it did.
His voice boomed inside her head. You've been thinking about Halpert again.
No, she denied soundlessly, doing her best to avoid thinking about anything remotely green. I swear I wasn't. She thought about footballs pine and hockey pucks mint and basketballs lime and waverunners—
Shut up, bitch. You're wet. I know you were.
NO! she screamed silently. For the first time in a long time, she resisted. She shoved at his chest, jammed her legs together, and tried to twist away from his grasp. In a heartbeat, his thick fingers were wrapped around her neck. Immediately, she froze, retreating instinctively. She fixated on the painting on the opposite wall, a small framed reproduction of Starry Night. She'd painted it back in high school. It was far from perfect. Even so, she couldn't do it again if she tried… it had been years since she'd so much as touched a brush. But if she squinted hard enough, the flaws blurred together and she could taste the original piece… raspberry blue ice cream. Life had been so full of promise back then. So simple. So clean and pure and sweet.
After he finished, she showered automatically, dressed mechanically, and made dinner robotically. First, you
pine
scramble the eggs. Scramble, scramble, scramble. Then, you
mint
add the ham and cheese. Ham and ham and cheese cheese cheese. Then you
lime
wait a few minutes for it to heat up, so you get out the plates and then…
and then… and pine
then… and then… and mint
then… you lime HE WAS GOING TO CHOKE ME
The plates slipped out of her hands, shattering on impact.
HE RAPED ME AGAIN HELP ME SOMEBODY ANYBODY
She crumpled weakly against the wall and slid down onto the tile.
NOBODY CARES
It was cold.
ONLY PINE MINT LIME AND I CAN'T
I can't
She didn't care.
i cant
so i wont
She lay still, emotionless. Tears were for sad people and she wasn't sad anymore. She wasn't sure she was even a person anymore. Personally, she didn't care. She didn't care that she didn't care. The subsequent intrusion was hardly unexpected.
If you ever tell ANYBODY, I'll kick his ass. Or worse.
There was no privacy under this roof. She didn't care. Dinner's ready.
He eyed the broken glass and stepped around it carefully. Clumsy bitch. You're buying new ones.
She would. She didn't care. Okay.
You KNOW I hate ham in my eggs, you stupid CUNT!
She forgot. She didn't care. Okay.
He picked up the hot pan and hurled it against the wall, aiming for the painting. The frame shattered as it fell to the floor, adding glass shards to the mess she'd made. He laughed cruelly, silently, for her ears only. I'm going to McDonald's. Be back whenever. It's poker night.
Now she cared. Not about herself, but about that poorly-executed, perfect little painting. Every emotion she'd been unable to feel came screaming back in an instant. "NO!" she howled, the first word she'd said out loud since hanging up the phone at a quarter to five. She crawled over as the door slammed shut, desperately picking off bits of greasy ham and chunks of egg. But the molten cheese wouldn't come off, try as she might.
Pine.
She didn't realize she'd cut herself until she noticed red drops raining down on the canvas.
Mint.
She didn't realize she'd pulled out her phone until it was in her hand.
Lime.
She didn't realize who she was calling until it was ringing.